


Mountains

by spaceagesap



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, also less livestock, like brokeback mountain but happier, like gilmore girls but way gayer, nature and gay stuff, park ranger au, the one where alex and maggie are super gay in the mountains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceagesap/pseuds/spaceagesap
Summary: Park Ranger AUorMaggie's a Park Ranger and Alex is doing some undercover science-ing on protected land. Hope you're into nature, pizza, coffee, beer, flannel, and gay stuff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Sanvers doodle I came up with. More soon. In the meantime, you can yell at me or send me prompts on tumblr: https://spaceagesap.tumblr.com/

Maggie Sawyer had always been a sucker for fall.

That first hint of chill in the wind as it came down off the mountains; the thunderstorms that softened to a grumble without warm, humid air to sustain them; the way her truck took just a second longer to start in the mornings — a clear sign that winter was on its way. It arrived as a welcome reprieve after the summer months, always too hot and too full of tourists.

The cold brought quiet with it and when it was quiet, the trees looked different. The ground was softer. The air smelled better. It reminded Maggie why she loved this job. But that year, October felt different, and Maggie felt different, too.

“They can’t just slash our budgets,” Maggie fumed, following her boss as he exited his office and headed down the hallway toward the mailroom. “They haven’t even been out to assess our programs in _three years_."

Lyle Greene had served as a park ranger for 35 years and had spent the last decade as Chief Ranger. He’d hired Maggie four years ago, but he’d known her since the day she was born. 

He and Maggie’s mother, Betty, had gone to school together. Lyle had moved to town with his parents when he was in the second grade. On his first day at a new school, his mother made him wear the maroon sweater his grandmother had knitted him, the one with the appliqué moose on the front. 

He’d been teased mercilessly and immediately, but Betty had stepped in, all overalls and pigtails, and told Sam Hatchett and his friends that if they said one more thing about Lyle or his sweater, she’d make sure they never won another game of kickball. 

Betty and Lyle had been thick as thieves after that. Lyle had given Betty away at her wedding, telling her that her dad would’ve been proud if he were there. Betty had stood up for Lyle at his own wedding and stood next to him as they lowered his wife’s casket into the thawing ground just six years later. Lyle had stopped by Betty’s house regularly after that, hating the feeling of his own empty house. Betty made coffee and Lyle fixed things — the porch rail, then the sink, then the mailbox after the divorce papers were signed. 

He was there when Maggie was born. He’d taught her how to ride a bike. He’d taken her to work with him when Betty was at the office late or attended conservation conferences a few times a year. He’d been the first to give her a “junior ranger” badge and he’d nearly burst with joy when he gave her the real thing twenty or so years later.

Lyle had always known that Maggie would make a great ranger. She was tough and smart and her love of the outdoors ran deep, ignited by her drive to protect it. She was headstrong and relentless, but she was soft when it came to the land.

Maggie Sawyer was great at her job, but she still had a lot to learn.

After 35 years, Lyle had seen more than a few budget cuts, shutdowns, and rainy days. This, he knew, was the nature of public service. It was a battle that was never won, but that gave way to progress and change in slow and uneven waves if someone was willing to stick around and fight for it. Here, in their tiny field office at the edge of a tiny mountain that stood on the doorstep of the country’s most stunning national park, they fought. They protected. They preserved. And Maggie fought with the kind of tireless brilliance that made Lyle believe that some people really did have a calling in this life. 

As much as he would’ve liked to shield her from this particular heartache, Maggie was going to have to learn all about the disappointments and setbacks that inevitably accompany meaningful change. Budget cuts were the type of setback that plagued their line of work constantly.

“Are you listening to me?” Maggie asked, waving a hand in front of Lyle’s face. She shook her head, her eyes alight with frustration. “There has to be something we can do. Someone’s ass we can chew."

Lyle knew there was no one. 

Sure, there were numbers one could call, avenues one could pursue to appeal or complain. But ultimately, they were a tiny field office at the edge of a tiny mountain town. Budgets were big monsters with sharp teeth and eyes that were focused on prizes much bigger and better for reelection than the conservation of public lands. This was never going to be a job where winning was the norm, and the sooner Maggie came to terms with that, the better.

“I’ll look into it,” he said.

Maggie's lips were set in a hard line as anger bubbled just below the surface. “Years of progress and work, Lyle. _Years_.” She shook her head, disgusted. “All in danger because some bureaucrat know-nothing scum-sucking piece of —“

Lyle held up a hand to silence her, then grabbed her shoulders gently and steered her toward the door. 

“I know, Sawyer. Believe me, I do,” he leveled her with a hard look that said that he understood what she was feeling. But his icy blue eyes sent a clear message: Not here, not now. Budget cuts scared people, and Lyle couldn’t afford to have his best people scared.

“Take the afternoon,” Lyle said, his tone light but insistent. “Go walk a trail. Check the tower. The fight will be here tomorrow.” 

For a moment, Sawyer looked like she might argue, but instead she set her jaw and nodded once. She straightened her jacket, pulled her hat off of the rack, and pushed through the doors.

\- - - - - 

Maggie’s hands were cold, even dug deep into her pockets. She wished she’d remembered to grab her gloves from her truck, but she was too far along the trail to justify turning back now. 

She couldn’t believe that they were looking down the barrel of a budget cut. Again. A sum of money that would probably come to less than the tab for the average congressperson’s holiday campaign fundraiser had the power to undo years of progress in conservation and outreach efforts. 

It wasn’t just programs, though. It was people, too. It was jobs. Livelihoods for people like Lou, who’d worked in the office for 44 years and had only called in sick five times. Or Sandy, who’d come out of retirement to work the gate to help put her granddaughter through college. Or Morgan, who could work miracles with a wrench, a nylon cord and electrical tape and who was worth so much more than the National Park Service could afford to pay him. 

Maggie would do whatever she could to protect her people, but when politicians who catered to a public obsessed with a bottom line got involved, there was only so much she could do. 

This job was harder than most gave it credit for. It required a love that was fierce and stubborn. Anything less would be steamrolled out of you in the pursuit of what most think is guaranteed in a nation that’s only had a National Park Service for a century — a drop in the bucket where history’s concerned. 

Maggie stooped to pick up a plastic wrapper, grumbling under her breath, when she heard the crunching of leaves and the distinct sound of someone humming.

Her hand stilled, outstretched, and she listened for a moment, trying to make out where it was coming from. There was no one on the trail in front of or behind her, and while there were switchbacks up ahead, they were too far off to produce anything that sounded so close. Standing slowly, Maggie tucked the wrapper into her pocket and took a few steps toward the edge of the trail.

There, not far from the trail and in between massive boulders from a long ago landslide, stood a woman with short reddish hair in a too-large wool pullover, alone, next to a small metal cooler. 

Maggie opened her mouth to inform the woman that there were reasons for all of the signs asking people to stay on the trails. You know, reasons like erosion, unstable ground, poison oak and the like. But just as she was about to give her an earful, the woman turned, still oblivious to Maggie’s presence, and abandoned humming in favor of singing in earnest. She moved her hips as she set something in the cooler and stooped, taking a trowel full of dirt from a small hole in the ground.

Biting back a laugh, Maggie cut in. “You always break the law to Bill Withers or is this a special occasion?”

The woman started, then whipped around, her eyes widening and the color draining from her face when she saw Maggie. 

Maggie started toward her, her eyes flitting from the woman to the cooler. “Can I ask why you’re off-trail, tampering with protected land?” 

The woman didn’t do or say anything for a long moment as she stood, rooted to her spot, more surprised than she should’ve been to see a Park Ranger in a National Park. Holding up one finger as she reached into her back pocket, the woman withdrew a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Maggie.

“I, er, I was just —“ she paused momentarily, then pressed on. "Dr. Alex Danvers,” she said. “Geological Survey.”

“Science fed,” Maggie nodded appreciatively as she scanned the paper. “Good to meet you, Danvers,” she said as she refolded it and handed it back to Alex. “Maggie Sawyer, Park Service. Might want to let someone know you’re coming next time,” she shot Alex a wry smile. “We’ve got a Welcome Wagon and everything. Plus, you know, it’s kind of the law.”

“I’ll remember that,” Alex said. “If that’s all, I should get back to it.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Maggie said, squinting up at the clouds overhead. “It’s going to storm any minute.”

Alex frowned. “The forecast said it wasn’t supposed to storm until this evening.”

“The forecast is wrong,” Maggie shrugged. 

Alex opened her mouth to retort when the rain started, slow at first but picking up in intensity. 

Maggie tilted her head and smirked, ‘I told you so’ written all over her face.

“I stand corrected,” Alex said, thunder stepping in as a punctuation mark. 

“You have a ride coming?” Maggie asked. “I didn’t see another car in the lot.”

Alex froze, glad that the sound of the rain hitting the rocks and the ground around them is there to cover up the sound of her heart hammering. She was sure that if it had been silent like it’d been moments before, Maggie would’ve heard it.

“I, uh, yeah,” Alex nodded. “Someone’s coming to get me. Um, later.” Explaining that Supergirl was her ride was a conversation that she wasn’t entirely willing to have right here right now.

Maggie bent to shut the lid of Alex’s cooler, either not noticing or not caring that Alex flinched as she did.

“It’s raining and it’s only going to get colder,” Maggie said as she picked up the cooler and started back toward the trail. “Come on. I’m giving you a ride.”

Alex jogged to catch up. “No, really. It’s fine. I have a ride, I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

Maggie didn’t stop moving. “Great. I’m sure we’ll meet her in the parking lot, then.”

\- - - - - 

They didn’t. Alex knew they wouldn’t. Kara wasn’t supposed to be here for another couple of hours to take her to a hotel in town. She was busy being National City’s hero and Alex wasn’t about to call her away for a little rain.

“Your ride have a cell phone?” Maggie asked. She noticed that the rain was beginning to fall harder, but didn’t mention it.

They stood in front of Maggie’s truck for a moment, Maggie watching Alex with amusement as Alex focused intently on the ground. 

“Get in. You can call and tell her I have you.”

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but Maggie read it and cut her off.

“I’m not leaving you here in the rain.”

Alex narrowed her eyes, silently sizing Maggie up, but didn’t move.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Listen, Danvers, either you get in the truck or I’m going to have to wait out here with you.”

Maggie folded her arms, tilting her head defiantly as a half-amused smirk played on her lips. “Then I’d give you my coat, because that’s the kind of girl I am, and I’d freeze,” she sighed, indulging in a little dramatic flair. "Then I’d get sick. Totally stricken with some kind of rare influenza that, despite the best doctors’ best efforts, would kill me.” 

“If you can live with my blood on your hands,” Maggie shrugged, "then by all means, let’s just stand here like two idiots too stupid to take advantage of the warm, dry vehicle right in front of us.”

Alex leveled her with glare, but made no further attempt to protest. She turned without a word, opened the passenger-side door, and slid inside, slamming the door roughly behind her.

Maggie did her best not to laugh as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t a new truck, nor was it particularly nice. It had an old bench seat, covered with a Pendleton blanket that was older than she was. It also had a tape deck, but only played the one Dolly Parton tape, which had been stuck in it for over a decade now. The interior was an uninspired and indescribable shade of brown that spoke to its age but was, at the very least, clean. And no matter how many little green tree-shaped air fresheners passed through its cab, it always smelled the same: like dirt, trees and sunshine.

“Thanks for saving my life, Danvers,” Maggie grinned. “I owe you one.” 

In the seat next to Maggie, Alex’s entire body was tense and coiled like a spring. She didn’t respond immediately, but when she did, it was measured and suspicious.

“How do I know you’re not some kind of creep?” Alex regarded her carefully, scrutinizing her for any indication that she might be unscrupulous. "Or murderer? I mean, you could be anyone. You could have an axe in the backseat, for god’s sake.” 

If Maggie was taken aback by the sudden accusation of homicidal tendencies, she played it off well. She reached into the backseat, her hand closing around a wooden handle. 

“What, like this one?” she asked, lifting her felling axe just high enough that Alex could see it.

“Jesus Christ,” Alex’s eyes widened and she scrambled for the door handle with one hand while the other reached for the sidearm in her waistband.

“Danvers. Relax,” Maggie dropped the handle, putting both of her hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding. It’s for trail maintenance.”

Alex didn’t relax. But she withdrew her hand from behind her back, not especially eager to try to explain why someone who was supposed to be Geological Survey was carrying a government-issue weapon.

“Not funny.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed, nodding. "But I promise I’m not a creep. Or a murderer. I just have a thing against leaving people alone outside in the rain, that’s all.”

Alex nodded, but her hand remained on the door handle.

“I’m not even special in that regard,” Maggie added. “It’s a Ranger thing. We’re all pretty damn chivalrous. You should see the field office when an old lady tries to cross the street out front. Just a stampede of nature dorks in funny hats.”

Laughing a little despite herself, Alex’s hand finally moved from the handle. 

“I see,” she said. "Where’s yours?”

Maggie jerked a thumb toward the backseat, deciding it best not to reach back there again. 

“It makes my head itch. I don’t wear it unless my boss is around or the park’s crowded.”

Lifting her eyes slightly to look at Maggie, Alex tried hard not to picture what she must look like in the hat.

“How long are you in town?” Maggie asked as she turned the key in the ignition, letting it linger just a moment until the engine roared to life. 

“A few weeks. Longer if there’s something of note.”

Maggie slammed a fist on the dashboard, startling Alex.

“Sorry,” she said, not looking up as she fiddled with the dials on the tape deck. “Stupid thing only works with a little ‘motivation.'”

A few turns of the dial and the speakers crackle to life, filtering music into the cab.

“‘Of note’ you say?” Maggie turned back to Alex. “What’re you looking for?”

She tried not to read anything into it when Alex tensed up.

“I — um, well, mineral deposits. And, uh, some…” she struggled to find the words before she just settled on the easiest (if least helpful) explanation. “It’s classified, mostly.”

“Ah, Nerd Fed. Got it.” Maggie smirked at Alex. “Safe to assume you’re staying at the only open inn in town?”

Alex hadn’t made a reservation yet. It was her first day here and it’d all happened so suddenly. One minute she was suiting up for the long-awaited bust of an Andwellian weapons ring and the next, J’onn was briefing her on a weeks-long semi-secret assignment in the mountains, undercover as a scientist from the Geological Survey. 

He was worried about her. She’d been nonstop for months. She had no friends outside of Kara and Winn. She had no hobbies. Her apartment looked more like a really nice hotel room than a place someone called home. But Alex loved her work. She sort of lived for it, for better or worse. J’onn knew she needed to get out of National City, to regroup and remember that Alex Danvers was a person outside of her badge.

But she wouldn’t do it on her own. Not when Cadmus was regrouping after the loss of its leader. So he’d sent her away. A few weeks in the mountains to look into reported deposits of Rag’norium on assignment would do her good. It was low-stress, low-risk, and it was a direct order. He couldn’t make her take a vacation, but he could send her into the woods for a few weeks.

“I’ll be fine, Alex,” Kara had said. “If anything happens, we’ll call you.”

Alex had agreed, however reluctantly. Kara’d flown her here this morning before she could change her mind with a meager selection of field supplies. It was, in effect, marooning, but Kara had promised to bring her duffel and her bike later tonight. 

“Yeah,” Alex said, hoping that ‘only open inn’ wasn’t code for ‘only fleabag motel so desperate for money that it doesn’t close down in the offseason.’

“Good choice,” Maggie said, putting the truck in gear and pulling out of the parking lot. “The rooms are great, but Loretta’s coffee is the real selling point."

\- - - - - 

“Tell Loretta I brought you by,” Maggie said as she pulled the car to a slow stop outside of the front doors of the only open inn in Aspenvale. “I keep hoping that if I bring enough business to her doorstep she’ll forget the time I ran into her mailbox.”

Alex craned her neck to get a better look at the inn through the window.

It was simple. Alex hadn’t expected anything more than a Motel 6 by a different name, but this place was…charming. More chalet than motel, with its sloping roof, shutter-and-window-box-lined windows, and its timber exterior, it had a distinct coziness about it. It was quaint, adorned with a hand-painted sign that read ‘Come On Inn’, pushing warmth out into the world through its aging French windows.

“How long ago was that?” Alex asked, still admiring the inn.

“Eight years.”

“Persistent, aren’t you?”

“Aw, you noticed," Maggie deadpanned.

Alex rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She gathered her cooler, her bag, and her coat and stepped out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “I owe you one.” 

“Danvers,” Maggie said, stopping her before she could close the door. She leaned over the seat and slipped a card into Alex’s hand. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

Alex nods, eyes on the hastily-scrawled numbers in slightly smudged blue ink under Maggie’s name and the National Park Service logo. 

“I mean it,” Maggie said. “I’d hate to see you spend all your time holed up in that room ordering from the worst pizza place in town.”

“Which one’s the worst?”

Maggie shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to call me.” She winked, and with that, pulled away, leaving Alex to turn around and make her way inside.

She’d told Loretta, the kindly woman in her late 60s who sat by the fire in the front room, rather than behind a desk, that Maggie Sawyer had dropped her off. Loretta had smiled knowingly and shown Alex to one of the rooms on the second floor, big enough to accommodate its large bed and the armchair in the corner but not much else. 

Alex was on the bed, flipping through channels when she heard a tap on the window. 

“Took you long enough,” she said as she opened it.

Kara ducked inside, landing softly and immediately collapsing into the armchair, dropping Alex’s duffel on the floor.

“Sorry,” she said. “Long day.”

“Anything I should be worried about?” 

“No, no,” Kara shook her head. “Nothing like that. Snapper, mostly.”

“I see,” Alex said, sitting back down on the bed.

“I’m doing a story on L Corp’s new patent filings, but Lena’s been so busy. I can’t get a moment alone with her to talk about the weather, never mind combustion manifolds.”

“Anything on Cadmus?”

“No. Worry wart.”

Alex nods, unfazed. “Good.”

“You find anything here?”

Alex shook her head. “Started raining half an hour after you dropped me off.”

“Right. You said someone gave you a ride?”

“Yeah. Park ranger.”

“Maggie Sawyer?”

Alex frowned. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

Kara nodded toward Maggie’s card at the edge of the bed.

“Must’ve made quite an impression if she gave you her personal number."

“She has pizza recommendations.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Enough,” Alex rolled her eyes. "Speaking of, I can’t believe you showed up without food.”

Kara groaned. “I forgot. I’ve been so busy I forgot to eat.”

“That’s saying something coming from you.”

“I know,” Kara sighed. “I’m going to find the nearest place with potstickers. I’ll be back in a few.”

With that, Kara was out the window.

Alex picked up the card from where it sat on the bed, staring it down as she waged a brief internal war before taking out her phone and typing in Maggie’s number.

_Thanks again for the ride. Sorry for the murder accusations._

It didn’t take long for the reply to come.

_Anytime, Danvers. You know where to find me._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! yell at me/send me things on tumblr: https://spaceagesap.tumblr.com/


End file.
